


surprise! i love you

by jsnoopy



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Birthday, Canon Compliant, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dry Humping, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Hand Jobs, Jaemin as the wise best friend, M/M, idolverse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-24
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-14 09:54:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29665509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jsnoopy/pseuds/jsnoopy
Summary: They’re all used to this. It isn’t weird. Could it be weird? Leaning down and brushing his lips over Jungwoo’s nose, like he wants to do – would that make it weird?or: On Jungwoo's birthday, Mark confesses.
Relationships: Kim Jungwoo/Mark Lee (NCT)
Comments: 13
Kudos: 130





	surprise! i love you

**Author's Note:**

> happy belated jw birthday fic ! 
> 
> thanks to chloe for all the evil little ideas <3

Despite years surrounded by other people, powering through the paranoia that accompanies never being alone, Jaemin notices first.

In the midst of “Work It” preparations, Mark peeks inside the practice room.

At the sound of the opening door, more than a few pairs of eyes drift toward him, but only Jungwoo stands, stretching his long neck from side to side as he rises. He half-jogs across the room, seemingly just to pinch Mark’s cheeks.

Mark rolls his eyes, but he can’t hold back the laughter that rises in his chest. He bats Jungwoo’s hand away, but ends up linking their index fingers together. Their hands swing. 

“We’re almost done here,” Jungwoo says. “Want to order food back to the dorm?”

With his free hand, Mark rubs his eyes vigorously, as though his knuckles hold some magic that will erase the dark smudges he knows are under his eyes. “I’ll be here late. Recording.”

Jungwoo tuts, squeezing Mark’s finger. “You have to eat.”

Mark smiles and rolls his eyes again. He lets go of Jungwoo’s hand. Actually, he has to hustle over to the studio before he gets chewed out for wasting the producer’s time. 

Jungwoo pouts until Mark pushes at his shoulder.

“Don’t worry so much. I’ll eat.” Mark peers over Jungwoo’s shoulder and waves at everyone else. “Have fun, you guys!”

Across the room, Yuta and Ten lift tired waves in his direction. Johnny tilts his head in a brief nod. They’re all refocusing, preparing to start dancing again — _just one more run, just one more, and then another, another._ Mark knows how it is. Only Jungwoo seems out of order, easily distracted by Mark’s arrival and inevitable exit.

As he leaves, Mark notices Jaemin’s eyes still on him.

They’ve known each other a long time, shared plenty of glances across crowded rooms when they couldn’t speak aloud. Mark knows exactly what Jaemin’s face says – the slight lift of his brow, the tilt of his head.

It says: _I know something about you now. Want to hear about it?_

Mark really, really doesn’t. But Jaemin’s eyes stay with him anyway, even as the door closes.

Jaemin doesn't bother seeking him out, so there's no reason for Mark to avoid him. It would be pointless anyway. They're good friends who enjoy each other's company.

Besides the fact that they're often shoved into a room with at least five to twenty-one other people. If Mark was _trying_ to hide, he would have a hard time finding a nook or cranny empty enough to house him.

That's what he tells himself, anyway, in order to remain brave in the face of Jaemin's ominous smile when they meet in the Inkigayo green room.

Jaemin plops down next to him on the couch. He doesn't say anything.

"Haha," Mark laughs, strained and without looking up from his phone screen. "What."

"What?"

Mark scrunches his nose. Unconsciously, his gaze drifts from his phone screen, across the room, and finds Jungwoo leaning into Sungchan, listening intently as their newest member shows him some video.

The gems under his brow sparkle as he provides the necessary reaction to whatever they're watching, raising his eyebrows, opening his mouth in a pleasantly surprised 'O'.

"You're staring," Jaemin says.

Mark knows he is. He's been sneaking glances ever since he stopped recording that stupid behind-the-scenes video.

He doesn't mind teasing – he certainly does it enough with other members. But sometimes Jungwoo plays too fast, too hard, and trips over the invisible line Mark's drawn, the one that keeps his feelings tucked safely from view. It's the only way to avoid getting hurt by the borderline inappropriate jabs Jungwoo throws. He wishes he could voice that, without feeling awkward, rejecting advances that aren't even real.

He's not sure if Jungwoo even cares.

He averts his eyes.

"You could talk to him, you know."

"You don't know what you're talking about," Mark mumbles, though he's sure Jaemin definitely does. He's too emotionally intelligent for his own good, or for Mark's, or for anyone else's. There's no time to _brood_ when he's around.

_Talk about it, just say what's on your mind._ Yeah, right. Like it's that easy.

Well, Mark can stew in his mess a while longer, thanks. He doesn't need rescuing from something as silly as feelings.

As if he can hear Mark's thoughts, Jaemin laughs.

Mark frowns and elbows him in the ribs. Gently, of course. They still have to perform.

"Make a move, then," Jaemin says. "He's secretly a romantic, you know. Even if he has the communication skills of an old, dusty brick."

Mark rubs his finger over his mouth as he thinks. There's no point denying his crush to Jaemin. But... "I'd only make a move if it was, like, a certain thing. I'm not going to fuck up our relationship just to... like, whatever."

"Yeah," Jaemin says, standing and smoothing out his outfit. "Like I said. Make a move."

  
Mark does not make a move. In fact, Mark adamantly avoids making a move, even when the opportunity presents itself, over and over again.

He’ll be lounging in bed, lazily avoiding the day, and Jungwoo will shuffle in with his eyes half-closed, deposit himself over Mark’s prone body like he’s a pillow made just for Jungwoo. Jungwoo-sized cuddling plushy, that’s Mark, who bites his lip as Jungwoo rests head on his chest, and prays that Jungwoo can’t hear the wild thunder of his heart.

He’s brave enough to let his arm fall around Jungwoo’s shoulders, his hand hanging loosely over his side, and too much of a coward to say anything honest.

Too much of a coward to acknowledge that Jungwoo isn’t sleeping at all, his lashes fluttering as he mindlessly pinches the tips of Mark’s fingers, sliding his own between them as though to threaten a _real_ handhold, and sliding away again. It tickles. Mark doesn’t dare flinch.

Or he’ll be in the kitchen, heating water for tea to soothe his sore throat, still mouthing the lyrics to the song he has to record in the morning, a few short hours away.

A door will creak, feet shuffle across the floor, and then two arms will wrap around him from behind, a warm, firm hold punctuated by Jungwoo’s chin on his shoulder.

He’s a little too tall to do that comfortably — Mark knows Jungwoo has to lean down to nuzzle his face into Mark’s neck. But he does it anyway.

And Mark’s brave enough to lean back into him, place his hand over Jungwoo’s and sigh, but too much of a coward to turn around and face him. He’s too exhausted, too relieved by something as simple as Jungwoo’s silent comfort.

He’ll just do something reckless, like kiss him. Like never let go.

If Jungwoo is waiting for him to make a move, he’s endlessly patient. A god of patience. So generous in his patience that Mark wonders if he made the whole conversation with Jaemin up in his head, if it was a dream.

Mark doesn’t have a lot of insecurities. He’s plenty confident on the stage. He’s even approached other people before, when he’s interested in them, even without knowing what their answer would be. But with Jungwoo… it’s different.

They’re already close. He could live like this. He would be fine, having this the way it is.

Days drip past. Weeks.

Jaemin texts and Mark ignores him and ignores him and ignores him again.

Jaemin calls and Mark says, “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Neither do I. You think I want to hear any more about your cute smile?

“Shut up.”

“I’m serious. Do something.” Jaemin hangs up before Mark has the chance to do so himself.

Mark tosses his phone to the foot of his bed, frowns at his ceiling, then retrieves his phone to plug it in. _Make a move._ It’s ridiculous.

Night passes and leaves him behind, limbs leaden with exhaustion.

And Jungwoo arrives again, in the early morning, before the sun has finished peeking over the roofs of Seoul. He slips into Mark’s bed, sighs against his neck.

His cheeks look especially squishy in the morning. Mark pokes one and Jungwoo grunts out a weak protest, but he doesn’t move.

“I have to get up,” Mark murmurs.

On the other side of the room, their manager is stirring. But they’re all used to this. It isn’t weird. Could it be weird? Leaning down and brushing his lips over Jungwoo’s nose, like he wants to do – would that make it weird?

Jungwoo’s arm slips over Mark’s chest. He hooks his leg over both of Mark’s. He could probably pin Mark down if he really wanted to. He’s stronger than he looks – he likes to pick Mark up and swing him around, laughter loud in Mark’s ear.

Ugh. He shouldn’t think about this with Jungwoo’s leg laying over his crotch.

He slaps the side of Jungwoo’s thigh. The sound echoes in his brain. Like that's much better. Jungwoo only huffs another burst of warm breath on Mark’s neck.

“I have to be at the studio in, like, two hours.”

Jungwoo hums. “Five minutes won’t kill you.”

“Five?” Mark asks doubtfully.

Jungwoo’s arm tightens around him. “Okay. Ten minutes. You’re so needy.”

Mark thinks he’d really like to kiss him.

Maybe, just this once, Jaemin is right.

“Thank you,” Jaemin says. “No, _thank you,_ seriously. I don’t want to hear another word about your cute ass, _ever again_.”

On the eve of Jungwoo’s birthday, Mark almost succeeds in sneaking out.

The plan is in motion. Only, while setting up for the morning, gathering everything into a bundle to shove into the closet and wait for when Jungwoo falls asleep, he realizes he’s forgotten half of his shopping list.

He sends a quick text to Jaehyun and slips down the dark hallway.

Unfortunately, Jungwoo has a sixth sense for snacks. Just as Mark’s slipping his right shoe over his heel, the door to Jaehyun and Jungwoo’s room cracks open. 

He freezes — Jaehyun was supposed to keep Jungwoo occupied with stupid videos for at least an hour, just enough time for Mark to run to the store and back. 

“Yeah, yeah, right,” Jungwoo’s saying as he steps into the hall, still looking over his shoulder. 

For a few seconds he doesn’t see Mark. Mark can still make his escape. But the glow of the bedroom lights up Jungwoo’s face, his tongue poking out the corner of his mouth as he eyes Jaehyun with his brows raised, and Mark’s stomach drops. 

He can’t move. He doesn’t want to miss this — a moment when Jungwoo doesn’t know he’s looking, isn’t acting or playing into Mark’s mood. 

Jaehyun’s voice is too low for Mark to understand what he’s saying, but his brain is all muddled anyway, too focused on the way Jungwoo’s shirt rides up as he stretches his arms up and behind his head.

How many times have they seen each other nearly naked? And Mark’s heart still flutters at a slip of skin the width of his finger.

God, Mark prays he doesn’t fuck this up.

The moment passes. Jungwoo’s gaze lands on him and his expression settles into a smile. He tilts his head. “Going somewhere?”

“GS-25,” Mark says, his mouth betraying him and his secret mission. Stupid mouth. “Want to come?”

Jungwoo nods. “Let me get my wallet.”

“Nah, it’s almost your birthday. I’ll pay.”

“Aw. I’m so lucky.”

Mark bites at his finger, waiting quietly until Jungwoo grabs a coat and his shoes. 

The street is quiet this time of night. Although plenty of cars pass by, they don’t run into anyone on their walk down the block. Mark keeps his hands in his pockets, his eyes fixed on the pavement in front of him. 

Usually Jungwoo might fill the silence with a story, but he keeps quiet, too. It makes Mark nervous. 

“Everything okay?” he asks.

“Hm?” Jungwoo tilts his head toward him. Though the lower half of his face is covered with a mask, his eyes crinkle up like he’s smiling. “Great. You?”

“Yeah,” Mark says. “I’m great.”

Thankfully Jungwoo splits off once they step into the store, but Mark still speed runs the aisles, paying for everything he needs and a bag before he doubles back. He finds Jungwoo perusing the chips, tapping his fingers against his chin.

Even under the harsh lights, bare-faced, and wearing track pants, Jungwoo looks beautiful.

Mark averts his eyes to the display of chocolate bars, pretending to contemplate the 2+1 deals.

Silence holds onto them as they finish their shopping, Jungwoo murmuring his thanks as he holds the door for Mark.

All the lights are off when they arrive back at the apartment. Before Mark can flip the lightswitch, Jungwoo takes his hand. The door falls shut behind them, closing with a soft click.

Down the hall, Jaehyun’s music plays and Yuta and Taeil talk. Everything is muffled by their closed doors. Mark imagines their manager is in their room or out. It’s just him and Jungwoo here, now, and Jungwoo’s fingers are cold against his palm.

“What is it?” Mark asks, quiet. His cheeks still sting from the cold night air. He’ll excuse the warmth that floods them on the heater, rather than Jungwoo squeezing his hand.

“Are you scared of getting older?” Jungwoo asks. His voice is just as quiet, gone soft and serious.

Mark wishes he could see his face. He wishes he was a more comforting person. He never knows what to say besides offering encouragement, doesn’t know how to react to the sudden slip of honesty Jungwoo offers him. 

“Not really?” Mark says slowly. “Maybe I used to be, but… there’s still so much to do. So much is gonna happen. Maybe some will be bad, but a lot will be good.”

Maybe, hidden by the dark, Jungwoo’s eyes are glittering with mirth. Maybe he’s setting Mark up for a joke. Mark doesn’t know any of that for certain.

He just knows that Jungwoo’s hand is warm in his, that he sounds nervous. Mark knows he’d do anything to keep Jungwoo from feeling unsure. 

“You know,” Mark murmurs, “you’re one of the bravest people I’ve ever met.”

Jungwoo lets out a breathy laugh, but doesn’t respond. After a few minutes standing in the dark, with the shine of the streetlights outside, now Mark can see him better. He’s looking down at their hands. 

Mark squeezes his fingers gently. “I mean it. You don’t have to be scared, Jungwoo. Whatever happens, I’ll be right there beside you.”

Jungwoo hums thoughtfully. “Until next year?”

“And the next and the next.” _And the next,_ Mark could continue, but if he doesn’t bite his tongue he’ll start admitting things he’s not ready to say. 

“Thank you, Mark,” Jungwoo says, his voice close to a whisper. 

Mark thinks that’s the end of it. Jungwoo will go into the kitchen or back to his room, and Mark can sneak away to hide his birthday goods on the 5th floor. 

Jungwoo steps closer. He’s so close that Mark could easily tilt his head up, lean in and—

Jungwoo’s lips cover his, plush, warm. 

Mark inhales sharply. He lets go of Jungwoo’s hand in his surprise.

Then Jungwoo’s gone, backing up. He doesn’t say anything. He just stands there, looking at Mark in the dark, Mark looking at him.

Mark feels like he’s been dunked in cold water. His heart hammers so hard in his chest he wonders if Jungwoo can hear it. He needs to say something. What is he supposed to say? Why isn’t _Jungwoo_ saying anything?

This isn’t how this was supposed to go. This isn’t his plan.

He opens his mouth. He means to say, _What?_ or _Are you okay?_ or _Please do that again,_ but all that comes out is, “Goodnight.”

He barely remembers walking to his room, closing the door behind him. His bag from GS-25 swings loosely from his fingertips.

He stands with his back to his door, breathing slow and purposeful.

After a minute, footsteps follow him down the hall. But then another door opens. Jaehyun says something. Jungwoo doesn’t respond, but the door closes again.

And Mark is alone again.

Somehow, he manages to sleep, but he still wakes before his alarm. His stomach ties in knots as he sits up in bed, forced to wait.

It took a lot of convincing to push his morning schedule back a few hours. He's pulled so many strings he's already feeling grow taut again, ready to snap him back to reality. Somehow he's more scared of the favors the rest of the guys will ask of him for having to silently sneak out to the fifth floor without waking Jungwoo. He's lucky they're sweet. If he dies by humiliation by that afternoon, maybe he'll at least have a kiss or two in his pocket.

He's getting dressed when Jaehyun opens the door, poking his head in and throwing him a thumbs up.

"Good luck, man," Jaehyun whispers, grinning.

Something about the gesture is reassuring. Mark takes a deep breath and returns the smile. Satisfied, Jaehyun eases the door shut again. In another life, Mark could kiss that man.

But in this life, he's waiting for Sleeping Beauty.

Mark doesn't want to dress up too much -- he changes clothes just so he doesn't smell like sweat and sleep. Sweats, t-shirt... but will Jungwoo be offended that Mark isn't trying to impress him?

Mark hesitates in front of his closet before pulling on his too-tight t-shirt. He turns to inspect himself in the mirror.

Jesus. He's lucky the guys already left. He'd never hear the end of it.

Taeyong brought up the little cake this morning -- bless him. All Mark has to do now is arrange the birthday candles, ( _all 24 was a mistake, a_ big _mistake, he can only imagine the disappointment in Doyoung's eyes when he burns down the building_ ), spread out all the snacks ( _way too many snacks, is he trying to put Jungwoo in a food coma?_ ), pin up the banner, brush his teeth, and wait for Jungwoo to wake up, praying all the while that he's not about to fuck up one of the most important relationships in his life.

He won't. Jaemin wouldn't do that to him.

( _Did he do something to Jaemin he doesn't remember? When was the last time they argued? Did Jaemin make any thinly veiled threats of revenge?_ )

Fifteen minutes feels like five hours.

Mark stands up and sits back down, checks his phone without really reading anything. Jungwoo's should be awake by now. Why hasn't he shuffled in looking to wrap his octopus arms around Mark?

Mark stares at his door, squinting as if he might suddenly develop X-ray vision and be able to peek all the way into Jungwoo's room. He doesn't, of course, but he does realize he might be an idiot.

Last night. Jungwoo kissed him. And he just walked away. He hadn't even considered that Jungwoo might be just anxious as him, if not more.

Like a little angel on his shoulder, he hears Jaemin's voice ask, _What now? You're just going to break his heart and expect him to show up to spoon?_

Mark grimaces. Maybe not so much an angel, but imaginary Jaemin has great points. He picks up his phone, sending a message that nestles under his short _Happy birthday <3 _from exactly midnight.

_come to my room when you wake up!!_

Mark presses his knuckles to his mouth, watching the message deliver. Should he have added a heart? Two? Would two hearts emojis make up for running away after their first kiss?

His descent into madness is interrupted by footsteps. The door swings open.

Jungwoo pauses, taking in the room slowly. He bites his lip, but the corners of his mouth curl up anyway.

Mark sweeps his arms out. “Happy birthday.”

Jungwoo must take the gesture as an invitation. He steps into Mark’s arms, hugging him tight against his chest. He even lifts Mark up onto his toes, squeezing a laugh out of him. When he pulls away, he’s smiling.

“All this?” Jungwoo asks, voice lilting teasingly. “For me?”

“Yeah,” Mark says. “All for you.”

There’s no hint of awkwardness as Jungwoo kneels beside the spread – a makeshift picnic between the two beds. No sign of last night as Mark lights too many candles on too small a cake. Jungwoo cackles as Mark urges him to blow them out _now, hurry please, please? Please hurry up._

Mark’s relieved that this is all going smoothly. After last night, he almost called the whole thing off. It was kind of a silly idea in the first place, thinking that Jungwoo even wanted a surprise morning spent with just himself. _Probably really vain and weird. Why didn’t anyone tell him that?_

Jungwoo swipes a dollop of frosting from the edge of the cake and lays it on his tongue. His lips close around his finger, cheeks hollowing out dramatically. He groans loudly, _too loud_ , and Mark’s probably supposed to smile, but all he can do is stare.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

Mark blinks. He can feel blood rushing to his cheeks, but maybe he can play it off. “Like what? Is it hot in here?”

Before Jungwoo can respond, he stands and crosses to the window, pushing it open. When he turns around, Jungwoo’s still watching him, his lips curved in an amused smile, eyes twinkling. 

“Has anyone ever told you that you have, like, a Disney prince face?” Mark asks as he settles on the corner of his bed again.

Jungwoo laughs, a quick, surprised burst, and the tension dissipates a little.

“No, I mean it,” Mark insists, though he laughs along, too.

“That’s why you’re looking at me like that?”

“I dunno,” Mark says. 

Jungwoo waits for him to continue. His smile only grows when he doesn’t. “‘Cause, you know, that’s the look you give guys when you want to fuck them.”

“Oh,” Mark says, voice tight. “Do I?”

“Or when you want them to fuck you,” Jungwoo says, not unkindly. “You’re not subtle.” 

He reaches over to squeeze Mark’s knee and leaves his hand there. It’s warm, burning Mark’s skin through his sweats.

Mark bites his lip. “I’m not trying to— that’s not what this is.”

After a moment, Jungwoo’s hand falls away. His expression doesn’t waver, but there’s tension in his mouth that wasn’t there before. He looks away and opens another bag of chips. 

“Do you have anything else planned today? Do you want to play video games until everyone comes back?”

_Fuck._ This is going all wrong. 

Mark scoots closer. “Jungwoo.”

Jungwoo purses his lips. He doesn’t respond, but he isn’t eating either, just staring into the bag like he’ll find an answer there.

This time it’s Mark who has the answers. He just has to be brave enough to say them out loud.

Mark takes Jungwoo’s hand. “Last night…”

Jungwoo’s head jerks up. He looks at him, eyes a little wide. “We don’t have to talk about that.”

“Shut up.” Mark licks his lips, takes a deep breath. “Yeah, we do. Or we should. Or… I don’t know. Like, maybe I should’ve said something last night instead, but I didn’t think I’d have to yet, like I thought I’d have all night to finish planning out what I wanted to say and… It doesn’t even really matter now ‘cause sitting in front of you now, my mind is, like, totally blank.”

Jungwoo shakes his head. “I get it.”

“Oh. You do?”

“You just want to be friends. It makes sense. Don’t worry about it.”

Mark blinks. “I mean, yeah. Yeah, I want to be friends. But I also want to kiss you.”

He tries not to cringe or blush or look away. This is the time to be brave and look Jungwoo in the eye and tell him how he feels.

He squeezes Jungwoo’s hand. “I really like you. A lot.”

Jungwoo looks like a deer in headlights. He opens his mouth and closes it again.

“Do you like me?” Mark asks, suddenly shy.

Instead of answering, Jungwoo pulls him into a kiss. He tastes sweet, like frosting.

One kiss isn’t enough, and there’s too much space between them. Jungwoo sits on the edge of the bed and pulls Mark between his legs, but that’s still not enough – Mark finds himself straddling Jungwoo’s lap, balancing on his knees and a miracle.

This isn't a new position for either of them. But the fact that it's Jungwoo's hand on the back of his neck, his mouth opening under Mark's, his kiss stealing Mark's ability to think clearly, that makes the difference.

Already, Mark is sporting a semi, obvious in his loose sweatpants and equally humiliating.

But Jungwoo doesn't seem to mind. As his tongue occupies Mark's mouth, one hand runs down his spine, fisting the back of his shirt. Jungwoo's knuckles skim over Mark's lower back. It's just one touch, but Mark feels sensitive all over, his skin prickling with nerves.

He inhales sharply. Jungwoo pulls back. The whine that escapes Mark's mouth at the loss is pitiful. He should be embarrassed. He isn't. Not with the appreciative look Jungwoo is giving him, his arm still firm around his waist and his fingers in his hair.

"Okay?" Jungwoo murmurs, so sweet and gentle Mark wonders if this must be a dream. He's seen Jungwoo around men he's fucked before – loud and teasing and a little reckless. He didn't look at them how he's looking at Mark, all discrete smile and warm eyes.

Mark swallows hard, his heart rabbiting in his chest. "I'm good."

Under Jungwoo's gaze, he feels suddenly shy. It's a little silly, he knows, because it's just _Jungwoo_.

Yeah, it's the first time they've made out, and he's sitting on Jungwoo's lap.

Yeah, he's hard and they haven't even done any heavy petting ( _or light petting,_ his brain supplies, so helpfully), so?

This is the guy who pretends to be asleep whenever anybody comes into his room.

Except for when it's Mark. Jungwoo always lifts his head from his pillow and smile dreamily, as though he really is asleep and this is the best fantasy his brain could come up with, then he opens his arms and Mark either rolls his eyes and gets what he came for or falls against his chest, relishing in the few minutes of solid warmth.

And this is the guy who pitches his voice up and down, sing-songs his conversation in dressing rooms, switches on for the camera and winds down again leaning into Mark's side, his head tipped onto Mark's shoulder in the van, who wakes up in a start at traffic lights and apologizes until Mark guides his head back down again, grasps his hand on top of his thigh and—

Jungwoo's that guy.

That guy Mark fell in love with, somewhere, sometime over three years and countless stages, practice rooms, late-night runs to the convenience store, confessions traded over steaming cup ramyeon, jokes passed over airplane aisles. It could've been anyone else. But it's him.

And he's watching him slot together all these little moments, the whispers and touches fitting together like broken puzzle pieces. He rubs small circles over Mark's back, patient despite the bemused quirk of his brows.

Mark could say it, lay it all out between them, hold his breath and watch Jungwoo's face anxiously. But today's not about him. He can wait another day.

After all, he meant it when he said he'd be by Jungwoo's side, year after year.

There’s time for love.

Mark shifts on Jungwoo's lap. Jungwoo's hands seize his hips, holding him still, and it's then that Mark realizes the real reason he shouldn't be so embarrassed about getting hard from a little kissing. Jungwoo’s hard, too.

Mark smiles, hooking his fingers into the collar of Jungwoo's shirt and pulling the fabric down. Jungwoo's clavicle, exposed, inspires brand new ideas about where Mark might like to put his mouth. All over, preferably, but that's a good place to start.

He looks back up at Jungwoo's face, appreciating the dark look Jungwoo gives him in return. Mark presses his thumb to the center of Jungwoo's chest, tilting his head.

Jungwoo's eyes drift across Mark's face. He clutches at Mark’s waist. “What do you want right now?”

Just to tease him, Mark rocks his hips forward, brushing his own erection against Jungwoo’s. Something flickers across Jungwoo’s face. His tongue peeks out, pressing against the corner of his mouth as he considers Mark. Mark’s seen this type of composure settle over Jungwoo after a stage, when adrenaline is still pumping through their blood, crowning them kings of the world.

Mark swallows hard. “I want what you want.”

Jungwoo’s grip on Mark’s waist tightens, fingers digging into muscle.

Mark doesn’t know what to expect until Jungwoo shifts back on the mattress, holding Mark steady on his lap. Mark rests his hands on Jungwoo’s shoulders, grateful for the extra balance. It’s a side effect of the movement that their hips meet again, friction sparking up Mark’s spine.

Jungwoo must see it on his face. He smiles, a little too sweet, too casual, asks, “This?”

He presses his hand to Mark’s lower back, pulling him closer.

It shouldn't be a surprise when Jungwoo presses a kiss to Mark's bare skin, forging a path down his neck to his collar, but Mark shivers. When he can’t go any farther, he sinks his teeth into his skin instead, lapping his tongue over his flesh, and Mark wonders if Jungwoo can taste his wanting through the thin layer of sweat on his skin. If he hadn’t seen it in Mark's face before, he surely knows now, holding Mark's sensitive, tense body in his lap like this.

Mark's patience wears thin. Almost absentmindedly, he rocks down in Jungwoo's lap, his thighs burning as the simple friction sparks in his stomach. Strained, he says, "I know it's _your_ birthday and all, but, like, isn't this a bit much?"

Jungwoo's laughter huffs against Mark's neck. Despite his complaint, the sound is pleasant and makes Mark squirm a little, only leading to another brush of his ass over Jungwoo's own growing erection.

"What?" Jungwoo murmurs, nosing along Mark's jaw to press a chaste kiss behind his ear. "You haven't thought about this? Never imagined rubbing up against each other when we're lying in bed? Never thought about me holding you while you use my body to get yourself off?"

Mark's breath stutters. He's imagined many scenarios which all end in him and Jungwoo in bed, whether their clothes are on or off, but none of them involved grinding against each other until they came. Usually he at least gets a hand into Jungwoo's pants.

But there's something achingly honest about the way Jungwoo asks, something sweet and charming in Jungwoo's lips brushing kisses along his jaw, his cheek, the corner of his mouth.

Now all Mark can think about is pushing Jungwoo back onto the mattress and rubbing himself against his thigh. So he does.

"Like this?" Mark breathes, mouth hovering centimeters above Jungwoo's as he straddles his thigh.

Hair fanned out on Mark's pillow, sunlight streaking through the window and shining on his face, Jungwoo looks mythical. His cheeks flush a pretty pink. His coy smile emerges again. He slips his hand up the back of Mark's shirt, cool fingers splayed out over the small of his back.

"Like this," Jungwoo agrees, lifting his other hand to cup Mark's cheek, his touch gentle and encouraging.

Mark braces his hand over Jungwoo's shoulder, dips his head to leave a soft kiss on Jungwoo's parted lips, and rocks down.

Embarrassment flashes across Mark's mind at first. He wonders how this must look, his body moving in a poor imitation of fucking as he chases pleasure against Jungwoo's thigh. It's pitiful and desperate and—

Jungwoo's eyes glint with adoration. Mark palms Jungwoo's jaw, presses his thumb to the corner of his mouth, and watches the digit disappear between plush lips, enveloped in his warm, wet mouth.

Everything goes a little hazy.

The drag of Mark's hips over Jungwoo's thigh pushes up Jungwoo's shorts, bunching them up until all Mark can see is smooth, bare skin.

The draw of the fabric over and over must rub him sensitive – Jungwoo shivers, digs short nails into Mark's back.

Mark casts a look up and down his body. His shirt's ridden up, too, revealing his slender torso, stomach taut with anticipation. He's all but untouched, bulging in his shorts. Mark makes a quick decision and passes his knuckles lightly over the outline of Jungwoo's cock, glancing back up at his face just in time to see his eyelids flutter, his mouth falling open as a pleased sigh escapes him.

Need pulses in Mark's chest, the desire to make Jungwoo fall apart, cry out under his touch and be consumed in the same sparks dancing up and down Mark's spine. They're home alone -- maybe one of the only times they will be for a while, and Mark's mind fixes on a new mission: eliciting some sound, small or otherwise, from Jungwoo.

“Can I touch you?” Mark asks.

Jungwoo swallows hard. Mark follows the bob of his Adam’s apple, considers leaning down and mouthing at it.

“Please,” Jungwoo says, voice low. “Touch me.”

Jungwoo’s cock is warm in Mark’s hand, a little bigger than he thought, slightly curved. Mark admires him for a moment before glancing around. His lube’s too far away and the idea of getting up, removing the pressure on his own dick, isn’t at all tempting.

He spits into his palm.

Jungwoo makes a soft, strangled sound. Mark looks up as he takes Jungwoo in hand again, meeting his eyes and holding them as he strokes him.

It’s a little too sloppy, a little too rushed. As his own cock throbs, Mark grinds down against Jungwoo’s thigh again. Next time he’ll do a lot better, explore more, kiss every centimeter of Jungwoo’s skin, and then do it again. Maybe they’ll go slow, draw it out until they’re both aching for release, and muffle each other’s name into their pillows. _Next time._ _There’s going to be a next time._

If Mark weren’t already dizzy from Jungwoo’s hand on his ass, his tongue in his mouth, he might pass out from that thought alone.

Jungwoo bites Mark’s lip when he comes, spurting into Mark’s fist and dripping onto his stomach. He moans. Mark swallows the sound greedily.

“C’mon, baby,” Jungwoo murmurs into Mark’s mouth, and Mark follows, his orgasm crashing over his head, lighting up the inside of his eyelids as he buries his face in Jungwoo’s chest.

He lies on top of Jungwoo for a while, boneless. Jungwoo doesn’t seem to mind. He only moves to tuck himself back into his shorts, probably in case someone comes back – what time is it? Everyone will be coming back soon. They should shower or something, at least change clothes.

“Shh,” Jungwoo hushes, rubbing Mark’s temples.

“Hngh,” Mark says.

Jungwoo kisses the side of his head, the shell of his ear, his cheek. When Mark lifts his head to look at him, Jungwoo continues his appreciation by pressing his lips to the tip of his nose, his chin, the space between his eyebrows.

“Hey,” Mark murmurs. “I’m supposed to be the one making you feel good.”

Jungwoo laughs, his easy, sleepy grin slipping over his pretty face. “I feel good, Mark. So good.”

Mark matches his smile. “Happy birthday.”

“Best birthday ever,” Jungwoo murmurs, kissing him again.

And again.

And again.

Before Mark goes to bed that night, he wonders if he’ll wake up and find that it’s all been just one of those dreams that make him feel awkward and shy when he has to face Jungwoo again, pretending that he hasn’t spent the night dreaming of kissing his face.

Instead, he wakes and finds himself folded against Jungwoo’s chest, Jungwoo’s heart beating steadily under his cheek, Jungwoo’s exhales ruffling his hair.

Sounds of life are stirring in the halls. He reaches for his phone, finds that his alarm has been turned off. He’s definitely in trouble.

Still, he takes a moment to admire Jungwoo’s face as he sleeps. Or pretends to sleep – Jungwoo opens his eyes for a split second and purses his lips out in a kiss. Mark pecks his lips and receives a satisfied hum in return.

“We have to get up,” Mark says.

“Mm. No.”

“C’mon,” Mark murmurs, patting Jungwoo’s cheek.

Jungwoo makes no effort to roll away. He just pulls Mark closer and presses a kiss to his neck. “Five minutes.”

For the hundred-thousandth time since Jungwoo first walked into his life, Mark’s heart flutters. This time, he hopes Jungwoo can feel it.

“Nah,” Mark murmurs, wrapping his arms around him. “Ten.”

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading, drop me a comment before you go? <3
> 
> you can find me here:  
> [twt](https://twitter.com/jpseudy)  
> [cc](https://curiouscat.me/jpseudy)


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